


Always So Cold

by flipflop_diva



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cold, Comfort/Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Natasha, Protective Steve, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:39:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dreams were something that had never gone away. He’d had them from the day he’d woken up from the ice until the last one just a couple days ago. But this time, it wasn't a dream. And this time he wasn't alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always So Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snack_size](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snack_size/gifts).



> Happy Halloween! I hope you enjoy!

The dreams were something that had never gone away. He’d had them from the day he’d woken up from the ice until the last one just a couple days ago. They were always the same. He was trapped in a dark space. He couldn’t see or hear anything. But he could feel everything. And it was getting cold, colder, colder still. He was being frozen to death again and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

In his dreams, he tried screaming, but no sound ever came out.

And then he would wake, shivering and horrified, his breath coming in gasps as his mind whirled with panic. He’d always press a hand, once he became aware of where he was, usually safe in his bed, to his abdomen, to feel the hot, warm skin, a sign of the serum working, and then he would force himself to breath, because it was only a dream.

But this wasn’t only a dream. This was real. This prison cell they had been thrown in was actually getting colder by the second, and unlike with his nightmares, he couldn’t just wake up from it.

A soft touch on his arm broke him out of his thoughts. “You still with me?” Natasha asked. 

He turned his head to look at her. They were sitting side-by-side, their arms barely touching. She was peering at him curiously, and he could see the concern in her eyes. 

He managed to make himself nod, to not _remember_ that other place, that other time. To not remember what it felt like to feel the cold settling in and _know_ that was it. 

He shook his head, tried to order the thoughts away. 

“Yes,” he forced himself to choke out. “Yes.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded, too. “We’re going to get out of here,” she said. “Clint should have gotten the signal I sent him. He’ll track us.” She glanced down at her arms, as if looking for where her widow bites were supposed to be. They had taken them from her once they’d realized she was using them to call for help.

“If he got it,” Steve whispered, and then instantly felt guilty. He was supposed to be the optimistic one in this group.

But Natasha didn’t seem bothered. She just nodded again. “He did,” she said firmly. “I know.”

Steve didn’t ask her if she was trying to put on a front for his sake. She wouldn’t tell him if she was, but he could see it in the way she was looking him over, searching him as if to see if he was cracking right in front of her.

He shivered. Had it just gotten even colder? 

“Hey,” he said softly. “How are you holding up?”

It was hard to see her really well in the low light of the cell, but he couldn’t feel her trembling and her voice didn’t shake when she spoke.

“Fine,” she said. She tilted her head just a bit to smile at him, and in that moment the one small bulb of light from the hall beyond their prison caught her face at just the right angle.

He frowned. “The fact that your lips are turning blue says otherwise.”

She shrugged. “I can deal with cold.”

“They taught you how not to freeze to death?” The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was asking. It was an unwritten rule between them that Steve never mentioned her past unless Natasha brought it up first.

She was quiet for a second — he searched his brain to figure out how to apologize for the slip — but then she shrugged. “They taught us a lot of things.” She didn’t elaborate, but Steve didn’t expect her to. Instead he reached out an arm, wrapped it around her and tugged her in tight against him.

“Steve,” she protested, but he put a finger to her lips to shush her. Her face felt like ice.

“Body heat,” he said. “I have some survival training too, you know.”

She shifted, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her favorite spot when they were at home and alone. She had never done it in public before. If a solitary prison cell could be counted as out in public.

“I’m not going to let you freeze again,” she whispered into his shoulder, and this time he felt her shudder in his arms.

He ran a hand through her hair. Even that felt cold.

“I know,” he said.

He didn’t say, there’s no way to stop it. He didn’t say, I’m not sure Clint will find us in time. He didn’t say, I’d rather go back to that awful place in my nightmares than watch it happen to you.

He just held her against him, carded his fingers through her hair, and shivered as the temperature dropped again.


End file.
